- 



■ Hii 






Library of Congress, 1 












Shelf. 



ft 



<S>:^UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.^ 

®1m 9-167 .§ 



■ 







■ 

B 




The pictures of Miss Hall are taken from some of the 
very few photographs in possession of her family. She 
was unusually averse to "sittings," and the pictures are, 
therefore, not as perfect as her friends may wish. 





'-^^C^S2> 



MY SISTER'S WELL-ROUNDED LIFE 



A MEMORIAL EPISTLE 



ADDRESSED TO A FAMILY FRIEND 



A. OAKEY HALL. 




New -York : 

THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

No. 2 Bible House. 



/Or -^S 



" It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature that 
when the heart is touched and softened by some tranquil 
happiness or affectionate feeling, the memory of the ' dead ' 
comes over it most powerfully and irresistibly. It would 
almost seem as though our better thoughts and sympathies 
were charms, in virtue of which the soul is enabled to hold 
some vague and mysterious intercourse with the spirits of 
those whom we dearly loved in life. Alas ! how often and 
how long may those patient angels hover above us, watch- 
ing for the spell which is so seldom uttered, and so soon 
forgotten !" Charles Dickens. 



" Why must tlie flowers die ? 

Prisoned tliey lie 
In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. 
O doubting heart ! 

They only sleep below 

The soft, white, ermine snow, 

While winter winds shall blow, 
To breathe and smile upon you soon again " 

Adelaide A. Procter 



This little volume was originally printed for private cir- 
culation, but in compliance with requests, has been pub- 
lished. 



My Dear Doctor: 

I obey with exquisite pleasure your command 
for a long letter concerning my sister, who has 
" departed this life." 

What a perfect phrase that is from the elder 
gravestones ! How often I wish that the false 
word " died " could disappear from mention in 
the daily journals; together with — from every 
source — those gloomy paraphernalia that imme- 
diately follow or surround the dissolution of 
an "earthly tabernacle." 

My sister was a gratified believer in the ideas 
best expressed by Longfellow, 

" There is no death ! what seems so is transition ; 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 
Whose portal we call death." 



She commanded that no one should put on 
mourning. Her wishes were not only obeyed 
because expressed, but for the accompanying 
reason, that the aptness of the request was ac- 
knowledged by all of us. 

We speak of her hourly, in feeling akin to 
that with which Charles Lamb remembered his 
sprightly neighbor, " Hester," in his poem of 
that name : 

" — gone before, 
To that unknown and silent shore : 
Shall we not meet as heretofore, 
Some summer morning ?" 

I find this penciled in one of her books: 
" Those who fall asleep in Jesus are not lost 
to those who survive them ; they are only 
parted from them for a time, to meet again, 
and to have that meeting at home. They are no 
more lost than a dear friend is, who goes home 
before ns after we have sojourned at a distance, 
and whom we are soon to follow, and know 
where to find. But to our society, our counsels, 



10 



our plans, and our labors here below, they are 
lost, and the loss will be deeply and lastingly 
felt throughout mortal life, in proportion to the 
greatness of the excellencies by which they were 
in life distinguished and endeared." 



11 



II. 



My earliest recollection of Marcia was as a girl 
of three years (I about six), teaching me how to 
kneel upon a pillow, as little Samuel, and in imi- 
tation of the well-known scriptural picture ; and 
next after that, lisping some one of those sweet, 
childish prayers which seem to he suggestions 
from the other world. 

She passed from mortality, whispering the 
prayer of the matured mind into my ear as I lay 
by her side, smoothing the hair that yet was as 
soft and beautiful as when, in those days of lisp- 
ing infancy, it rippled into auburn tresses. 

Thus early and late in her mortal life, she em- 
balmed in prayer my filial remembrances. 

As you well know, her daily life gave prayers 
for me and mine, and, may I be pardoned for 
adding, they have certainly been answered, under 
the most harassing circumstances and unforeseen 
complications. 



One could summarize her whole object in life 
by using the word "prayer." Yet her commu- 
nion with the better world was ever unobtrusive, 
and not set in a frame of this world's belongings, 
nor hung upon public walls. 

Britain's poet-laureate has sweetly said, 

" By prayer the whole round world is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." 

My sister found her love of prayer intensified 
in these eloquent passages from Henry Ward 
Beecher : 

" Consider what a heavenly wonder must be 
the Book of Prayer that lies before God ! For 
groans are interpreted there. Mute joys gain 
tongue before God. Unutterable desires that go 
silently up from the heart burst forth into divine 
pleadings, when, touched by the Spirit, their im- 
prisoned nature comes forth. Could thoughts or 
aspirations be made visible, could they assume a 
form that befitted their nature, what an endless 
procession would be seen going toward the throne 



13 



of God day and night ! Consider the wrestlings 
of all the wretched ; the cry of orphans ; the cease- 
less pleadings of the bereaved and of those fear- 
ing bereavement ; the prayer of trust betrayed, 
of hope darkened, of home deserted, of joy 
quenched ; the prayers of faithful men from dun- 
geons and prison-houses ; the prayers of slaves, 
who found man, law, and the church twined 
around and set against them, and had no way left 
to look but upward toward God! Beds of long- 
lingering sickness have learned such thoughts of 
resignation, and such patient trust and joy, that 
the heavenly book is bright with the footprints 
of their prayers. The very silence of sickness is 
often more full of richer thoughts than all the 
books of earth have ever been. ' And when He 
had taken the book, the four living creatures and 
four-and-twenty elders fell down before the Lamb, 
having every one of them harps, and golden vials 
full of odors, which are the prayers of saints.' 9 
How grand is the thought that over all the 
earth, God's angels have caught the heart's 
breath, its prayers and love, and that in heaven 
they are before God like precious odors poured 



14 



from golden vases by saintly hands ! The influ- 
ences which are at work upon- the soul in such a 
covert as the closet are not like the coarse stimu- 
lants of earthly thought. It is no fierce rivalry, 
no conflict for victory, no hope of praise, or hun- 
ger of fame that throws a lurid light upon the 
mind. The soul rises to its highest nature, and 
meets the influence that rests upon it from 
above. What is the depth of kindness, what is 
the vision of faith, what is the rapture, the ecstasy 
of love, the closet knows more grandly than any 
other place of human experience." 



15 



III. 



Marcia was always a thorough student of the 
Bible. Now lies before me the little edition 
which she first owned in childhood. There is a 
library of its successors also. But the old volume 
was ever the favorite. 

Amid all worldly scenes, she remembered that 
" Newton laid not his dying head on his Prin- 
cipia, but on his Bible ; Cowper, not on his Task, 
but on his Testament ; Robert Hall, nut on his 
wide fame, but on his humble hope; Michael 
Angelo, not on that pencil which aloue copied 
with the grandeurs of the ' Judgment,' but on 
that Grace which for him had shorn the inevitable 
judgment of its terrors." 

Often must the wanderer amid forests lay his 
head upon a rude log, while above him is the 
abyss of stars. Thus the weary, heavy-laden, 
dying Christian leaus upon the Bible, yet looks 
up the while to the beaming canopy of immortal 
life — to those things which are above. 



in 



Perhaps some of the love for the Bible which 
was possessed by our maternal grandfather, 
passed into her soul at his death, when she was 
only live years old ; for this gentleman studied 
it in Hebrew and Greek. You will remember 
his rare editions of Bibles, glossaries, and diction- 
aries in those languages, and the immense trunk- 
ful of manuscript notes and commentaries upon 
the Bible which he left as a legacy to us from his 
intellectual treasury. 

This grandfather — Abraham Oakey, for a 
quarter of a century Deputy Treasurer of this 
State — married his first wife (our maternal 
grandmother) out of a Huguenot family named 
D'Assignie. And certainly, the mental adhe- 
rence, the moral persistence and bravery to up- 
hold intellectual convictions which belong to 
Huguenot blood were wondrously exemplified 
in Marcia's life — her life, which, intellectually 
strong and morally great, was, from very child- 
hood, physically weak. 

Within her desk, at which I now write to you, 
lie piles of unpublished journals and manuscripts. 



17 



Doubtless scores of portfolios in the households 
of families who loved her contain her friendly 
correspondence. And on yonder table are col- 
lected and uniformly bound, for her mother, her 
published writings, which I will catalogue for 
you in an addendum sheet. Almost every 
thought of hers, un uttered, spoken, or written, 
traversed a physically lesioned brain. Many of 
her paragraphs were positively traced amid great 
bodily suffering and organic pain. 

Do you not recall that your first knowledge 
of her was as a child of thirteen, reclining with 
spinal weakness on the little couch in our modest 
McDougal-street menage f Can you not vividly 
picture her at the time when you as teacher and 
I as reporter were aiding the expenses of educa- 
tion with the petty struggles of pleasant labor, 
and through her pain she smiled upon our gos- 
sip and plans ? 

Marcia never sympathized with, although she 
never rebuked, my belief in the revelations to 
Emanuel Swedenborg ; but I often told her that 



18 



if angels did minister, there must remain ever 
with her One of Patience — perhaps Him apos- 
trophized by Whittier : 

" Angel of patience ! sent to calm 

Our feverish brows with cooling palm ; 
To lay the storms of hope and fear, 
And reconcile life's smile and tear ; 
The throbs of wounded pride to still, 
And make our own our Father's will. 
O thou who mournest on thy way, 
With longings for the close of day, 
He walks with thee, that angel kind, 
And gently whispers, 'Be resigned.' 
Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell 
The dear Lord ordereth all things well." 



19 



She used to say that a Christian should have 
his faith wiped clean of the dust of all unbelief 
and doubts, like as an astronomer cleansed from 
every speck the delicate lenses of the instrument 
that brought the material heavens nearer to his 
sight. Her Christian faith was illimitable. She 
believed holy things without reserve, and in her 
ordinary life her belief in those who won her 
confidence was also an entire one. 

Her life in God was that of a young child in 
its parents. The passer-by finds it in the street 
and asks, "Where do you live?" "I live with 
Father." " Are you not lost ?" " No, Father 
said he would come back for me." " Does he 
tell the truth?" " He is my Father." 

Does not skepticism come only to the growing 
child when it goes out into the doubting world ? 
Yet even there the grounded faith in Home and 
Father remains a protection ! 



20 



My sister's faith was a trained one. At first 
it may have been as ivy creeping around the 
church-porch, but as years rolled on, her faith, 
like this plant, which roots and clings as it creeps 
upward, had reached to the topmost towers — 
those towers which, as Alexander Smith some- 
where beautifully remarks, " lift up their spires 
to Heaven, as if to plead for sinful hamlets at 
their feet." 

Faith was her Christian logic. " The Bible 
says so," was her major premiss whenever science 
or ingenuity started adverse discussion ; and, as 
you have perceived from her labors as teacher 
and author, her Faith was the Parent of Works. 

She knew that Faith must be married to action, 
and that it ought to produce. This graceful 
marriage of virtues brought to her resignation. 
Through her faith, she recognized, with Jeremy 
Taylor, that the sorrow of her life — her ill-health 
and consequent inability to do all she wished — 
was a seminary of comfort, a nursery of virtue, 
an exercise of wisdom, a venturing for a crown, 
and the guide-post to the gate of glory. 



21 



With the eye of her faith, although ever sensi- 
ble of her thousand failings and imperfections, 
she still looked on her Redeemer ; and daily her 
soul, like the flight of an eagle toward the 
heavens, soared nigh the region of everlasting 
happiness. 



22 



The Parish Visitor — the gazette she had often 
illustrated by her facile pen — contained, in its 
issue of July, 1873, the following editorial that 
was understood to be written by the Rev. II em an 
Dyer, D.D., whom, as the ever-welcomed guest 
of our family, you have so often met : 



" On the third day of June last, Miss M. A. 
Hall, of this city, was released from her suffer- 
ings and entered upon her rest. It is with no 
ordinary emotions we make this announcement. 
Not only has a dear friend been taken away, but 
one who has stood in peculiar relations to us 
during all our residence in this city. To us her 
death is a great personal sorrow, and a great loss 
to the work in which we have been so long en- 
gaged. For twenty years she has been constantly 
and intimately associated w T ith us in all our labors. 
From the first she identified herself fully with 



23 



the principles and interests of the Society, and 
threw herself into its work with all the ability 
and energy with which God had so eminently 
endowed her. On coming, therefore, to New- 
York, to engage in what was to ns a new and un- 
tried work, we found in her the very associate 
and assistant we most needed. Her superior 
natural gifts, her cultivation, and her deep know- 
ledge and experience in divine things, as well as 
her great facility in the use of her pen, eminently 
fitted her to participate in the manifold duties 
which devolved upon us. 

" The Society was in its infancy, and nearly 
every thing was to be done. Books and manu- 
scripts were to be carefully read. Two periodi- 
cals were to be carried on. Pictures were to be 
designed and engraved for illustrating one of the 
periodicals, and many of the smaller books and 
tracts ; and an immense amount of proof-reading 
had to be performed. To these labors she gave 
herself without reserve. She at once took the 
entire charge of The Standard- Bearer, writing 
most of the pieces herself. Through the twenty 



24 



years of her connection with it, first as The Stan- 
dard Bearer, and of late years as The Mission- 
ary Echo and Standard- Bearer, she has been the 
sole editor. The success which has attended her 
labors may be seen in the fact that when she first 
took charge of it the monthly issues amounted to 
a few hundred copies, and now, at the close of 
her service, they amount to thirty thousand copies. 
In preparing and making up The Parish Visitor* 
Miss Hall rendered most efficient aid. She con- 
tributed much original matter to its pages ; and 
in her extensive reading made many of its best 
selections. 

" During this period, she wrote the following 
works, which were published by the Society : 
Christmas at Fern Lodge y Christmas Scenes in 
New - York ; Christinas at Sea ; The New Pic- 
ture-Booh; Pictures and Stories ; Pictures for 
the Little Ones, with Stories ; Prayer and Pre- 
cept ; Andy's Lesson, and How he Learned Lt ; 
Addie and her Turtle / Lizzie's Visit to New- 
York ; Cosmo's Visit to his Grandfather, and 
Pictures for the Nursery. 



25 



" Tliese works were written particularly for 
the benefit of children and youth, in whom she 
took the deepest interest. It seemed as though 
she never could do enough for them. For all 
this labor of love, she received many testimonies 
while living, and no doubt she will receive many 
more in the world to which she has gone. 



&' 



" In our frequent and often necessarily pro- 
tracted absences, we left nearly all our work in 
her hands, which was attended to with wonderful 
promptness and accuracy. In a word, without just 
such assistance as she rendered, we should have 
utterly failed and broken down. And all this 
was a gratuitous service — a free-will offering to 
her Lord and Saviour. 

" We mention these things not to praise the 
departed — she is beyond the reach of human 
praise, and needs it not — but that the friends of 
the Society may know how much its success, un- 
der God, has been due to her labors, and how 
great is the loss which has been sustained by her 
death. 



26 



"In the long-continued and unremitted ser- 
vices which Miss Hall rendered, in connection 
with the Evangelical Knowledge Society, she did 
not forget or neglect any of the claims which her 
family, her friends, or society at large had upon 
her. Her high cultivation, and her bright, en- 
gaging spirit and manners, made her a great fa- 
vorite among all who knew her. She was alike 
the companion of the old and the young. She 
could throw herself with all the enthusiasm of 
her nature into the feelings, thoughts, plans, and 
amusements of children, and at the same time be 
the chosen friend and companion of those of ma- 
ture years. As a teacher in the Sunday-school, 
and particularly of infant-classes, she had few 
equals. Her long and most successful services at 
St. George's Church most abundantly testify to 
her rare gifts in this respect. In parochial and 
other more general work, she took an active and 
often a leading part. In the origin and early 
development of The Ladies' Christian Union, 
her influence was very great, and much of the 
success of that important institution is due to 
her energy and practical wisdom. Her faith and 



27 



courage were at times truly "heroic. In a word, 
in every thing which promised good to others, 
Miss Hall was ready to do what she could. 

" The inspiring and constraining motive of all 
her labors was the love of Christ. In early life, 
she gave herself to the Saviour, and from that 
time she labored for His glory. Having been 
carefully and thoroughly trained in the princi- 
ples and spirit of the Gospel, she rendered a 
whole-hearted service to her Lord. Her views 
of truth were exceedingly clear and well-de- 
fined, so that her religion was not only real, but 
most intelligent and practical. She was always 
ready to give a reason for the hope that was in 
her, and illustrated that hope in her daily life. 
These traits gave to her character great steadi- 
ness, and to her life a beautiful consistency. Few 
Christians make higher attainments or a greater 
progress in the divine life than Miss Hall did. 
And few lives afford a brighter example of what 
a Christian should be than did hers. 

" For eight years past, she has been an invalid, 
and much of the time a great sufferer. But 



28 



though shut up in a sicK-room, she continued her 
labors up to the very last. While too feeble to 
sit up, or even to hold a pen, she retained the 
charge of the children's paper, and gave her last 
thoughts to the little ones whom she loved so 
tenderly, and for whom she had labored so long 
and so faithfully. She laid down her work and 
her life together. Her last days were days of 
great suffering, but her dear Lord bore her up in 
His own arms, and gave her His own peace. 
May we have grace to receive the lessons of this 
great bereavement, and be enabled to follow the 
sainted one as she followed Christ !" 



29 



VI. 

Another number of The Parish Visitor con- 
tained the following contribution : 

" MISS HALL. 

" The following testimony from a friend 
shows the estimation in which Miss Hall was 
held by those who knew her best : 

" ' Our friend has gone. We realize now what 
her friendship was. As we recall our intercourse 
with one so dear to Christ, we feel that we have 
enjoyed a peculiar privilege. Her friendship 
was of no ordinary character. It was a reflection 
of the friendship of Christ. The tenderness, the 
forbearance, the beautiful unselfishness of the 
Master marked her relations with her friends. 
She lived so much with Him that unconsciously 
she became like Him. Christ lived in her and 
showed Himself through her life. Like the Mas- 
ter, she loved every one, and yet found a peculiar 



30 



refreshment of spirit in the friendship of a cho- 
sen few. As one of this inner circle, it is a pri- 
vilege to gather up some of the lessons of her life, 
and to record a few of the impressions produced 
by her consistent Christian character. These 
memories of a friend will perhaps be useful to 
other friends and to those who, like her, are 
called to learn Christ in the school of suffering. 

" ' In the last pages of Stepping Heavenward 
—that wonderful soul history — Mrs. Prentiss 
brings out the deepening experience of one who 
had long been a learner in this school. Katie, 
nearing the end of her journey, sums up the les- 
sons of the way in these words : " What time 
and strength I have left let me spend in praying 
for all men ; for all sufferers, for all who are out 
of the way, for all whom I love. And their 
name is Legion, for I love every body. Yes, I 
love every body ! That crowning joy has come 
to me at last !" 

" 6 On one occasion, when referring to these 
favorite pages of a favorite book, Miss Hall 



31 



wrote : " It seems to me that no one who has 
not endured a long illness can f ally enter into 
their meaning. With her, I am trying and I hope 
learning to say, ' This crowning joy has come to 
me at last. I love every body !' " 

" ' This love was the crowning grace of her life. 
It was this that gave to her simplest words an 
indescribable charm. It drew all hearts to her, 
and made itself felt in all that she said and did. 

" ' She was a sufferer, and yet the well and strong 
came to her for help. Self -forgetful to the last 
degree, she gave rather than expected sympathy. 
How many leaned on the strong heart of this 
suffering woman ! How many depended on its 
stores for refreshment and support ! To the 
very last, she thought for others. When unable 
to serve them in other ways, her loving heart 
would ascend in prayer and seek blessings for 
their souls. Once, when speaking of a time of 
increased feebleness, when all active work was 
denied, she wrote: " I was feeling this especial- 
ly the other day when the thought came into my 



32 



mind, ' Perhaps the dear Lord only wants you to 
serve Him by praying for others.' It was a very 
comforting thought that I could serve Him by 
just closing my eyes and letting my thoughts go 
up in petitions for my loved ones." 

" i This work was her constant delight. She 
would leave herself and her wants to go in spirit 
among the active workers in the vineyard, among 
the sick and suffering, or the little children to 
whom she was especially drawn, sharing in their 
joys and making their sorrows her own. in one 
of her letters, she alludes to this way of working 
for Jesus : 

" ' " What a beautiful day we had Sunday ! I 
was not able to go to church, but I enjoyed the 
sunshine at home. I thought of the army of 
busy workers for Jesus in this city ; first of the 
hundreds of Sunday-school teachers ; then of the 
clergymen holding forth the word of life ; then 
of the mission-workers — laymen visiting the hos- 
pitals — women visiting the poor and afflicted — 
while I could only sit and pray and praise ; but 



33 



I was thankful there were so many to work for 
the blessed Master." 

" ' Hers was no idle life. " Not slothful in 
business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord," are 
words that best describe it. So intense was her 
sense of the responsibilities of life, that to the 
very last she struggled against the desire for the 
rest of heaven, that she might devote all her en- 
ergies to the work that was given her to do. 

" ' We can not better describe this devotion to 
her Master's work than in her own words : 

" ' " As we read the sublime verses in the lat- 
ter part of the 15th chapter of 1st Corinthians, 
commencing, ' Behold, I show you a mystery : 
We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be 
changed,' etc., on to the words, < Thanks be to 
God, which giveth us the victory, through our 
Lord Jesus Christ,' and then think of our daily 
struggles with temptation and trials, caused by 
our own sins and the evil that is in the world, we 
are ready to exclaim, Oh ! that we could leave it 



34 



all, and go now to the enjoyment of this victory 
in the jn'esence of Christ and His redeemed in 
glory ! But as we read the verse which follows, 
we see that it was not to awaken longings such 
as these that the promise of victory in the last 
conflict w r as given, but rather to animate us to 
zeal and earnestness in the work which Christ 
has given us to do here on the earth. 

""" Therefore] because you have these 
precious promises, ' my beloved brethren, be 
ye steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the 
work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that 
your labor is not in vain in the Lord.' ' 

" ' From such a Christian, one whose life was 
so wholly given to Christ, one whose progress in 
divine things was so remarkable, and whose very 
name is associated with rare spiritual attain- 
ments and great usefulness, how precious is 
this, her dying testimony ! The Master's call 
had been given. She was almost home. A life 
marked by labor and patience for Jesus lay be- 
hind her, a life of eternal joy was in sight. It 



35 



was at this time she wrote her last words to a 
friend. And what words they are ! "I am feel- 
ing so at rest, for I have laid all my sins on 
Jesus, and He has forgiven them, so I do not 
have to think of them. All that He has ever en- 
abled me to do in His service has been so unpro- 
htably done that I have no satisfaction in think- 
ing of that, so I just rejoice in His love and 
mercy. 

' ' Nothing in my hand I bring, 
Simply to Thy cross I cling ;" 

or rather rest in the cleft of the Rock. Suppose 
we had to think of something wherewith to pur- 
chase our acceptance, how anxious I should be ! 
But now it is, ' Just as I am, Thou wilt re- 



" ' What a testimony ! Christ all in all ! 
With such a spirit, well might she exclaim with 
her expiring breath, u I see Jesus" ' " 



36 



VII. 



The Missionary Echo and Standard- Bearer, 
a Sunday-school paper for children, which she 
had edited for many years, sustained a severe 
loss in her death. The following notices ap- 
peared in the July and August numbers : 

"the death of miss hall. 

"It is with deep sorrow of heart that we an- 
nounce the death of Miss M. A. Hall, who for 
so many years has had the entire charge of this 
paper. She departed to her rest on Tuesday, the 
3d day of June, 1873. 

" During twenty years, she was the editor of 
The Standard- Bearer and Missionary Echo. 
For eight years, she has been an invalid, and 
much of the time a great sufferer. But through 
all this period, she has retained the care of 
the paper, and as her feeble and declining 
strength would permit, has ministered to the 
pleasure and profit of the children. Her love 



37 



for them never grew cold or weary, and to the 
very last her heart and thoughts were occupied 
in their behalf. But her work is done ; she has 
said her last words to the children whom she 
loved so dearly. Her wasted, suffering body is 
at rest; and she has gone to live with the dear 
Saviour, in the beautiful home which He has pre- 
pared for her. Our heart is full, and we could 
say much ; but the following tribute from one 
who stood in the tenderest relations to Miss 
Hall, and knew her most intimately, expresses, 
better than we know how to do, our own thoughts 
and feelings, and therefore we most gladly adopt 
it as our own : 

" ' One who loved you very dearly, children, 
has gone home to heaven. When she was a little 
child, like you, she gave herself to Jesus ; and 
after a useful, lovely life of consecration to His 
service, she is at rest. The Master has called 
for His faithful servant to come up higher. 

" ' The initials M. A. H. are very familiar to 
you all, and although the last two or three num- 
bers have not contained stories from her, yet she 



lias continued to direct the paper to the last. 
Though laid upon a couch of great suffering and 
very feeble, still she prepared this very number 
for the press. Many of her stories were written 
while she was in much pain, yet her pen was 
never idle, for she loved little children so much, 
she could not do enough for them. She never 
wrote any thing that did not teach some lesson 
she had learned from her Saviour's lips. The 
gift of writing which He gave her was employed 
solely in His cause, and she has left many books, 
besides her writings in this paper, to testify to 
her faithfulness in His service. We shall miss 
her from her place ; but our loss is her gain, and 
we would not call her back if we could. Let us 
all, dear children, learn from the beautiful exam- 
ple she has left us, to follow Jesus Christ, the 
perfect Man, through this life, serving Him un- 
til the day when He shall call us home. Then 
may we be found readv and willing to go, even 
as this dear one was. God lent her to us for a 
little while to teach us, and now that He has 
taken her, may her life and lessons bring forth 
their good fruit. God grant it ! ' 



39 



A TALK WITH THE CHILDKEN ABOUT MISS HALL. 

" ' The children who have enjoyed the beautiful 
stories and pictures in the Echo will, I know, be 
glad to hear something more of the dear friend 
who for so many years wrote and worked to give 
them this pleasure. When the paper came from 
year to year, full of all that the children most 
liked, I wonder if they ever thought of the lov- 
ing hand and heart that sent it out. I wonder if 
they knew that this bright little paper came from 
a sick-room — that it was prepared by a lady 
who for more than eight years was seldom free 
from suffering. 

" ' Sick-rooms are often sad, gloomy places, but 
this is only when Jesus is not in them. Hers 
was always bright and cheerful, just like her 
paper. It did not look like a sick-room; for 
though she was generally on her sofa, her bright, 
happy smile almost made you forget that she 
was suffering; and then every thing around her 
was pretty and attractive. When the sun shone 



40 



anywhere, it shone through her windows ; in 
winter easting a rosy light from the crimson cur- 
tains over the walls and ceiling, resting on the 
pretty carpet and furniture, and brightening 
every thing and every body by its presence. No 
wonder this was a favorite room, and that the 
children loved it. 

" ' There was always a welcome ready for her 
little pets — always a pleasant story to tell, or a 
new picture to show, or some plan for their 
amusement to talk over. But, best of all, she 
loved to tell them the story that was so dear to 
her — 

" the old, old story, 
Of Jesus and His glory, 
Of Jesus and His love." 

Her 1 if e was a life of suffering, but the love of 
Jesus had made it bright and full of peace. She 
knew how precious He was, and this made her 
want to make every one happy in knowing Him. 
When God kept her in her room, where but few 
could come, she spent her time and strength in 



-41 



writing books to help the children heavenward. 
Now her work is done ! The patient, suffering 
life is ended, the life of joy begun. She is with 
Jesus in that beautiful land where the inhabit- 
ants shall no more say, " I am sick !" There, 
among thousands of happy children, she is to-day, 
perhaps leading their praises to Him who loved 
them and washed them from their sins in His 
own blood. Do not forget her, children ; but 
thank the dear Saviour for giving you such a 
friend, and then ask Him to let you follow her 
in living to make others happy. 

" ' There will be no new stories by " M. A. It. ;" 
but as you read over those she has written, and 
remember all you have heard of her, perhaps you 
will find them like new stories, and learn more 
from them than ever before. May each one of 
the little readers of the Echo follow her as she 
followed Christ, and so meet her at last in the 
Happy Land, to sing His praises forever. 

" Fanny Peer v." 



42 



Till. 

If these articles Lad appeared in any leading 
daily, even under the obituary heading, perhaps 
they would have revived memories to only a few 
score out of each thousand readers. As in the 
wars that become historically conspicuous, those 
only who are generals and commanders become 
world-renowned, while the modest bravery, the 
heroic martyrdom, the silent prowess, and the 
unobtrusive patriotism of subalterns are, when- 
ever observed, simply gazetted, to be cherished 
by a few friends, so is it in the great battle of 
human life. But the true Christian, like many a 
brave soldier, desires the consciousness of duty 
performed and good example given rather than 
commemoration. In each battle, victory is won 
by united deeds. The private worth and silent 
yet effective labors of unobtrusive Christians 
everywhere become incentives toward " lighting 
the good tight." 

Every reader of The Parish Visitor, however, 
felt that the devoted friend who wrote about 



43 



Marcia's decease had placed within the cir- 
cumscribed limits of an editorial only the out- 
lines of a Christian career which, if it could he 
fully portrayed, for universal exhibition, would, 
so far as any thing can be called deserving which 
is allied to humanity, deserve commemoration be- 
side the careers of Hannah More and Mrs. Be- 
thune. 

The dear one gone would have blushed to be- 
lieve that such things were to be written about 
her, and yet she fully tried to live up to and im- 
plicitly believed in the text, " Let your light so 
shine before men that they may see your good 
works, and glorify your Father which is in 
heaven." 



44 



IX. 



I could narrate much interesting family his 
tory, and perhaps with customary propriety, in 
mentioning the birth and lineage of Marcia Anna 
Hall. But it never mattered so much to her that 
she was descended, in a right line, on the mother's 
side, from a regicide (Colonel John Oakey) of 
Charles the First and a Huguenot Countess, who 
sought refuge in America, as that her mother 
was one of the very first Sunday-school teachers 
in the United States, and in her native place, 
Albany, as Munsell, in his annals of the Knicker- 
bocker city, at page 83, of vol. 7, commemorates. 
Nevertheless, as I have before indicated, it is 
evident that much of the tenacious convictions of 
duty and alacrity in sacrifice which flecked her 
life came from such ancestry. 

I may add, for the acquaintances to whom you 
may show this letter, that Marcia was the second 
child and only daughter of Morgan James Hall 
— he of Welsh mother and English father — and 



45 



Elsie Lansing Oakey, the sixth child of the 
Abraham Oakey before mentioned and Alicia 
d'Assignie. This marriage took place in Al- 
bany, in 1825, where Mr. Oakey then lived in 
the service of the State government as Deputy 
Treasurer. But Marcia's birth occurred in New- 
Orleans, in 1829, where her father had become 
a merchant. Mr. Oakey was from Queen's (now 
Rutgers) College, and up to the day of his de- 
cease remained that careful student and manu- 
script annotator of the Scriptures which I have 
previously mentioned. 

Marcia never knew her father, who died of yel- 
low-fever in 1830. Brought almost immediately 
under maternal influences and strong religious 
surroundings, she illustrated from prattling in- 
fancy the text, " Suffer little children to come 
unto me." At an age which would sound ab- 
surdly except viewed now by her past life (as pre- 
viously mentioned), she pored over the Bible and 
recited hymns. There was no childish sentiment 
about it ; because year by year there was shown 
intelligent development of religious life. Indeed, 



40 



so intelligent and pronounced were her Christian 
graces that her pastor allowed her, in her eleventh 
year, to make public profession of her belief. 
She was educated in the Presbyterian Church, 
under the pastorate of Rev. Erskine Mason, D.D. ; 
but when seventeen years of age, after much de- 
liberation, transferred her allegiance of Christian 
government to the Episcopal faith and worship. 

Her education was, to the greatest extent, self- 
influenced. She always seemed to be her own 
teacher. But for several years she enjoyed men- 
tal supervision from the late Mrs. H. B. Cooke, 
in whose seminary at Bloonmeld, New-Jersey, 
she was from 1838 to 1841 a beloved pupil. She 
was particularly intimate with the daughters of 
the late Thomas Hastings, the zealous Christian 
gentleman who, during half a century of Christian 
happiness and example in the great metropolis, 
trained community upon community to the study 
of those divine harmonies which form the atmo- 
sphere of the better world. They were both 
women of sweet dispositions and beloved lives, 
and their companionship doubtless exercised (they 



47 



were the elders) benign influences upon their 
ik little pet, Marcia." One of their teachers (we 
should rather say their Christian sister and com- 
panion) lives in Mount Morris — the faithful Chloe 
— to mourn, amid much patiently-endured bodily 
suffering, the loss of her pupil Marcia. But it 
would be deep affectation to withhold expression 
of opinion that by the hourly devotion, patient 
watchfulness, intelligent discipline, and mental 
supervision of her Mother were Marcia's early 
years best intellectually conserved. 



48 



This Mother (now in her seventy-fourth year) 
writes in her own clear manuscript as follows : 
" As I sit and think of my dear departed child, 
day by day, the little incidents of her infancy 
and childhood come up so vividly before me as to 
induce me to write some of them down, to show, 
as I always believed, God had sanctified her from 
her earliest consciousness. Before she could 
speak plainly, she prayed — came kneeling by my 
side, calling God her Father — she had lost her 
earthly one. From that time, she worshiped 
Jesns as 'the image of Ills Father ,' and her 
present real Friend. When only four years of 
age, during Dr. Mason's prayer in church, she 
whispered to me, 'Mother, he said my text, 
" God so loved the world," etc. Does he know 
God loves 7iief > When asked by some one, 
'How do yon, such a little girl, know that yon 
love God?' she replied, 'Why, I give myself 
to Him every day, and He says, " Come, 1 will 
love you always." ' 



49 



" She learned to read at four years of age, and 
would commit hymns by singing them ; she 
would lead the worship in a prayer-meeting of 
her Sunday-school class without hesitancy, and 
pray in our family when asked. She often ex- 
pressed a desire to profess her faith in Christ in 
church, but was kept back until she was eleven 
years old. Then her health was perfect, her spi- 
rits buoyant, and always cheerful. One year after 
this she had a fall from the school-steps and 
bruised her back, seriously affecting the spinal 
marrow. She was taken from school and placed 
under medical care, but lay on her couch for six 
months. Though her sufferings were very great, 
her Saviour's arm was never weary, and His sup- 
port kept away every doubt or murmur. She 
pursued her studies with a strong persever- 
ance while reclining on her couch, nor was she 
one moment idle, saying, 'I forget the pain 
when lam employed.' She made fancy work for 
a child missionary society, and would knit when 
she could not sew. She was so happy that some 
who visited her, as well as her physician, called 
her ' a sweet bird.' 



50 



" Her fondness for young children was great ; 
she always had a favorite whom she daily wished 
to see, or to send some token of love, even in de- 
nying herself. After eight months' confinement, 
she was pronounced well, and commenced to at- 
tend a private class, but, being weak, she fell 
again, and was laid down with more agony than 
before. This was a sad trial. When her mother 
would regret it and pity her, she would speak 
words of comfort, saying it would work for good. 
God was love — it was all love. She was then 
preparing for a life of usefulness in her Master's 
service. At one time, her physician called in Dr. 
Mott, who gave slight hopes of her recovery. 
When told this opinion, she replied, " I know I 
shall be well ; for Jesus told me so, and He will 
let me work for Him.' By advice, she was taken 
to the seaside for bathing, and by spending three 
successive summers thus, was measuredly restored. 
She began her ministry by daily reading the 
Bible to a sick cousin and instructing him, as well 
as preaching by her example to all connected 
with her. She was so unselfish that she did not 
ask the care she needed or should have had. 



51 



" The Lord had work for her in His church, 
and, in mercy, established her health. Her de- 
light was in teaching young children. Being 
asked by Dr. Hastings what employment she 
would like in heaven, she answered, ' I would 
love to lead a choir of children.' She was per- 
mitted to lead and teach them for over twelve 
years on earth, and now her song is begun in 
heaven." 



52 



XI. 



Her secular as well as religious education was 
mainly, however, of her own direction. She 
early began to map out extensions and collateral 
illustrations of her ordinary studies. She was, 
when quite young, a sound and independent 
thinker. At twelve years of age, her compo- 
sitions and letters began to be notable for their 
ideas rather than the mere word-painting which 
marks juvenile writings. 

Marcia's whole life, you know, was a struggle 
of Mind for victory over Body. Had she pos- 
sessed the physical strength that appertains to 
her families, to the extent with which she owned 
their nervous vitality and tenacity of life, it 
would doubtless be impossible to now estimate 
the great work she might have accomplished in 
Christian life. When quite young, an accident 
resulted in developing spinal weakness. For 
three years she was condemned to that couch 
and incessant confinements, beside which we 



53 



were so often together. After her thirteenth 
year, she can not be said to have known a day of 
perfect health. Yet the annoyances and disap- 
pointments which bodily weakness occasioned 
were seldom betrayed to friends and acquain- 
tances, and never, to her latest breath, was there 
more than a spasmodic querulousness, the tri- 
bute of humanity to mortal pain. There were 
no murmurs — those murmurs which are the 
results of deliberate volition. Hers was ever a 
Christian patience — an emanation of Bible faith 
and triumphing Hope — a patience illustrated 
with pleasant looks, considerate tones, and 
cheerful mien. 

When just of age, her real life-work began, 
under the lead of that truly modern apostle, the 
Kector of St. George's, Stephen H. Tyng, who 
will have his degree conferred upon him in the 
better world. She began in his parish her life 
devotion to children. From 1850 to 1864, she 
was the sole teacher of the infant class in his 
Sunday-school, numbering about three hundred 
children. Nothing could be added to that sum- 



54 



ming-up of her career in the Heavenly service 
which appeared in the address of her rector at the 
funeral services. There always seemed to have 
been bestowed upon her additional bodily strength 
while engaged in her Sunday-school work. Fa- 
tigue of no ordinary type preceded and followed 
this attendance. Yet during the hours of minis- 
tration on Sunday, or even of executive super- 
vision, correspondence, and visitations, a calm- 
ness and a smile rested upon her countenance, 
behind which no trace of human suffering then 
appeared. 

About the same period, she entered into the 
service of the Protestant Evangelical Knowledge 
Society as a writer for children. To them, for a 
quarter of a century, she gave her voice on the 
Lord's Day, and her pen on every other one. For 
this work of instructing children, she was admi- 
rably adapted. The instructor must be an in- 
terester. She was both. As is common to many 
children— who, for the most part, lose or forsake 
the faculty in growing life — she became a weaver 
of juvenile fancies about the family circle. It 



55 



was a faculty she cultivated. It was one spon- 
taneously flowing, rather than intentionally di- 
rected, into a religious channel, and from earliest 
youth her narratives appeared interesting and at- 
tractive. She seemed to possess an intuitive idea 
of what the diverse classes of childhood liked to 
hear about, and of the various styles of narrative 
that magnetized the juvenile attention. Thus 
she was enabled to individualize and adapt. 



r>(\ 



XII. 



Her industrious devotion with the pen appears 
in twenty volumes of The Standard- Bearer, and 
the following volumes : 

Susy Lee. Published 1851. American Sunday- School 

Union. 
Sunday-School Hymn-Book. Compiled and published 1855. 

E. K. Society. 
Infant-School Hymn-Book, Compiled and published 1855. 

E. K. Society. 

Picture-Book. Written and published 1855. E. K. So- 
ciety. 
Pictures and Stories. Written and published 1855. A. D. 

F. Randolph. 

The Child's Sunday Book. Written and published 1855. 

A. D. F. Randolph. 
Picture-Book, No. II. Written and published 1856. E. K. 

Society. 
Goodly Cedars. Written and published 1858. Randolph. 
The Gleaners. Written and published 1859. Randolph. 
Cosmo's Visit. Written and published 1859. R. Carter & 

Brothers. 
Kitty's Victory. Written and published 1860. R. Carter & 

Brothers. 



57 



Christmas at Fern Lodge. Written and published 1860. 

E. K. Society. 
Christmas in New-York. Written and published 1862. E. 

K. Society. 
Annie Price. Written and published 1861. R. Carter & 

Brothers. 
James Hubert's Rooster. Written and published 1861. R. 

Carter & Brothers. 
Christmas at Sea. Written and published 1863. E. K. So- 
ciety. 
Addie and her Turtle. Written and published 1863. E. 

K. Society. 
Lizzie's Visit. Written and published 1863. E. K. Society. 
Andy's Lesson. Written and published 1863. E. K. So- 
ciety. 
What Elsie Loved Best. Written and published 1865. R. 

Carter & Brothers. 
Happy Charlie. Written and published 1865. R. Carter 

& Brothers. 
Pictures and Stories. Written and published 1865. E. K. 

Society. 
Maggie and the Sparrows. Written and published 1868. 

R. Carter & Brothers. 
Dolly's Christinas Chickens. Written and published 1868. 

R. Carter & Brothers. 
Faithful Rover. Written and published 1871. R. Carter 

& Brothers. 



58 



Harry and his Pony. Written and published 1871. R. 

Carter & Brothers. 
Pictures for the Nursery. (Hanging scrolls.) 1872. E. K. 

Society. 
Prayer and Precept. (Hanging scrolls.) 1872. E. K. Society. 
Fun and Work. Written 1872, and published 1873. R. 

Carter & Brothers. 



She also wrote a temperance story, called 
Walter and his Sleigh, which appeared in a 
volume published by the American Temperance 
Society, entitled Old Brown Pitcher. This list, 
of course, can not enumerate editorials and 
articles which appeared from time to time in 
other papers and magazines, some of which bore 
her signature, while others were anonymous. 

These labors may be said to have been purely 
gratuitous. There were payments made from 
time to time, but so inconsiderable in amounts 
that they merely covered, as was just, ordinary 
disbursements incurred by an editor or writer in 
the purchase of books and in traversing chan- 
nels of information. Her mother's means were 
ample for all necessities, and it was Marcia's 



59 



pleasure to feel that she was not a niggard in the 
service of the Lord, to whom (quoting an emi- 
nent divine) " the widow's mite and the child's 
box of shillings came as acceptably as endow- 
ment from the grateful merchant." 



60 



XIII. 

I beg to send you a copy of the following vivid 
letter, written to Marcia's mother by Mrs. Mary 
Meiersmith, the wife of the Rev. Matson Meier- 
smith, D.D., rector of St. John's church, Hart- 
ford, Ct. 

"You ask me, dear Mrs. Hall, for some remi- 
niscences of the earlier days of our blessed friend- 
ship — Marcia's and mine. 

" As I look back over the thirty years that we 
have been nearer friends than sisters often are, 
the memories of our closely linked lives seem to 
gather themselves into a soft and lustrous vail. 
Every thing is gently shadowed and at the same 
time brightened by its enfolding. Here and 
there a scene, a conversation, an incident, spar- 
kles like a thread of gold or silver ; but to un- 
ravel it from the finished fabric is almost like 
tearing asunder that which is perfect and price- 
less to me. Besides, bright and unshaded as 



61 



were the beginnings of our friendship, it has so 
strengthened and broadened with the passing 
years, that I know not how to linger over the 
early days, when later ones have been so nmch 
richer and fuller. So you will forgive me, if, 
instead of choosing from dates and incidents, I 
try only to give you some faint idea what 
Marcia has been to me. Perhaps I may not say 
that our love began in baby-days, but I know we 
were mutually attracted in infant-school, as we 
commenced the mysteries of spelling and writing 
together, and these early recollections prepared 
us to be friends, when, after a seven years' sepa- 
ration, we met again in dear Miss P.'s school- 
room. 

" I remember my first day there. For several 
years, my sister and I had been studying at home, 
and we found ourselves sitting, shy and wonder- 
ing, among a group of twenty laughing girls, all 
at home with each other, and all on terms of lov- 
ing intimacy with their teacher. Dear Marcia 
was then the acknowledged head of the class. 
With the rare grace and kindliness of manner 



62 



which always characterized her, when courtesy 
was needed, she came to us lonely ones, in the 
first recess, and introducing herself, recalled our 
childish acquaintance, and at once we were at 
ease, and in love with her. From that hour, 
nothing ever clouded our friendship ; nor do I 
recall word or act of hers which mars the per- 
fect rounding of the character I then began to 
love and reverence. Her influence in that little 
circle was unbounded. Her mind was unusually 
matured, and her education more advanced than 
that of others of her age, while her tact and 
grace, and her loving Christian heart, combined 
to give her the foremost position she deserved. 
Her delicate health and fragile appearance 
won for her in advance a consideration which 
she could not fail to retain. Memory recalls 
with almost equal distinctness her leadership in 
every thing intellectual and religious, and in the 
gay sports and practical jokes of the recreation 
hours. It was to her fertile brain and ever-ready 
humor that we owed the little charades, panto- 
mimes, and adaptations of romances, which took 
the place with us of the usual meaningless sports. 



63 



A little play which she wrote at the age of four- 
teen, when a guest at our house, and which was 
acted by a group of children, to the infinite 
amusement of their seniors, gave promise of tal- 
ent enough in that line, had she chosen so to 
cultivate her ready pen. But her life was even 
then consecrated, and her heart was overflowing 
with love to her chosen Master, and to the young 
friends who so looked up to her. Precious hours 
of prayer and communing are remembered by 
some now bearing life's burdens the more faith- 
fully for such early help. Others to whom she 
loved to minister were soon gathered into the 
upper fold. Mingled with recollections of hap- 
py school-days, come thoughts of shadowed 
hours, when our dear one was kept a close pri- 
soner by weakness and pain, and when it was my 
privilege to try to bring her a little of the outside 
world in my daily visits. The same bright smile 
always greeted me, and the same unselfish inqui- 
ries after the interests of others, which marked 
her later years of languor and suffering. 

" When health was in a good degree restored, 



(34 



we all know how unbounded was her mental 
vigor and activity, and how her physical powers 
were always taxed to the utmost to carry out her 
plans of beneficence and her labors of love. The 
lirst ten years of my married life were bright- 
ened with many happy visits from her, and long 
and precious letters full of cheer and counsel. 
When Marcia was with me, I knew that all would 
move smoothly in domestic affairs. She was 
practical and capable, and supplemented my in- 
experience with her better judgment and quicker 
thought. Many an amusing scene presents itself 
to my mind, when what had nearly been a house- 
hold catastrophe resulted in a happy achieve- 
ment through her quick wit and ready hand. 
Indeed, I can not think of a sphere which she 
seemed incapable of filling, and I felt lost when 
I could not appeal to her. Her ready, loving 
sympathy, tact in criticism, frankness in reproof, 
and true appreciation of all the circumstances in 
which her help was sought, made her, I must 
think, one of a thousand, as friend and coun- 
selor. 



65 



" T never brought joy or sorrow to her, or ap- 
pealed to her in perplexity, without receiving the 
sympathy and word of help needed. Many of her 
friends will recall her happy use of Scripture pre- 
cepts and promises ; selecting always the message 
most apt and most inspiring. During the years 
when, scarcely more than a girl herself, she was 
first using her pen for the children, she often 
spoke to me of her deep sense of responsibility for 
the gift she was cultivating, and it was not with- 
out misgivings that her first little book was pub- 
lished. ' I am not satisfied merely to amuse or 
instruct,' she wrote to me, ' I want to do good.' 
Marcia identified herself so thoroughly with 
those she loved that she took into her heart all 
that was dear to them. Thus she adopted all my 
loved ones, and was to them as daughter and 
sister. 

" ' How wonderful it is that Marcia can be so 
unworldly, and yet interest herself so earnestly 
in all our affairs ! ' was a remark I often heard 
made. It was the rare combination of the life 
hidden with Christ, yet in perfect sympathy 



66 



with the cares, troubles, and foibles of all with 
whom she came in contact, which gave her the 
power she had with children and young people, 
both in writing and personal intercourse. 

" Those who were incapable of entering into the 
depths of such a life could not be insensible to 
its influence. 

U I have realized sadly for many years what I 
have lost of personal intercourse with my be- 
loved friend, as her invalid life and mine of 
many cares have been necessarily so often sep- 
arated. But whenever we met, we were one 
again, and enjoyed the restful satisfaction of our 
unbroken friendship. 

" After each reunion, I was conscious of her 
ripening life, and knew that we could not keep 
her much longer from the home awaiting her. 
Xow that she is gone, I know that one of the 
most precious treasures of my life has been taken 
from me. Her love, her counsel, her example, 
her prayers, they were all priceless. 



" I believe our friendship was a very rare one. 
1 am glad to bear my testimony to the reality of 
an affection commencing in childhood and in- 
creasing with advancing years, until the two lives 
knew no possibility of discord. You know how 
reticent Marcia was in putting her deepest emo- 
tions into words. As frank and unrestrained as 
was our intercourse, she rarely spoke to me of 
spiritual experiences. I could only gather from 
the ever-ready help she brought to all my needs, 
how rich was her own heart in treasures of hea- 
venly grace. ' I don't like to speak of a person's 
religious life,' she once said to me, ' as if one 
had two lives, a religious and a worldly one. I 
want to feel that all my life is bound to my 
Saviour's.' Every gift and grace she had was 
consecrated, and the Master lived in His loving 
disciple. In youthful days, she talked more to 
me of feelings and experiences. Later, she said, 
' It ought to be between the Lord and His peo- 
ple as it has been with us. We thought and 
talked much of our love for each other when we 
were girls, and often feared lest something should 
disturb our friendship. Now we know and rest 



upon each other. So ought we to know and rest 
upon our Saviour. So we should think of Him 
as knowing and trusting us.' 

"Each time I saw her, and every letter she 
was able to write to me during the last year of 
her life, showed me how the spiritual grew and 
strengthened, as the earthly perished. I think 
she almost lived in the presence of the Blessed. 
It was but the echo of my own thoughts when 
one said to me, ' The last time I saw Marcia, I 
felt as if I must make her the bearer of mes- 
sages into the unseen world. Her eyes were ra- 
diant with its light. She seemed in communion 
then with the King, and with the saints in His 
Paradise.' There is so much I could say of her 
out of my full heart, but others have a sacred 
right, and can say it better than I. Let me re- 
mind you again why I can not bring incidents 
into this letter. If one's acquaintance with an- 
other has consisted of occasional interviews, or 
been limited to a brief time, scenes are easily re- 
produced ; but Marcia' s life has been so long 
parallel with mine, and we have been so con- 



stantly in communion, that I can fix upon no 
facts or circumstances which made her any thing 
to me. It is just the consciousness of herself, as 
a perpetual loving presence, whether with me or 
absent from me, which has enriched my whole 
life, and which seems as near me, behind the vail, 
as it did mouths ago when each week brought me 
loving words from her pen. For the hour of re- 
union I look with a certain faith, and for the 
rest of my days shall thank God for her blessed 
life, and for the gift of her love through so many 
years of joy and sorrow.'' 



XI Y. 

Her entire trust and reliance in the Saviour, 
and the gracious, loving support which He gave 
her in the long ten weary years of suffering that 
she was called upon to endure, are best shown in 
the following extracts from her diary. For over 
twenty years, she kept a little pocket-diary of 
events, from which the following selections have 
been made. As she herself says, " A Christian's 
life is a hidden one," and there is but little 
record of it in her notes. Still, these few extracts 
show her friends, as her life did, the patient en- 
durance and perfect repose in the Lord Jesus 
which characterized her Christian faith. 



EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY. 

" i I said this is my inlirmity, but I will remem- 
ber the years of the right hand of the Most 
High.' In the month of November, 1863, it 
pleased my Heavenly Father to take from me 



71 



•the lieal th and strength with which for many 
preceding years He had blessed me, and in their 
stead to send me many months of weakness and 
pain. Yet He did not leave me comfortless, but 
sent the blessed Comforter to me, even the Spirit 
of Truth, to abide with me. This blessed Com- 
forter brought many things to my remembrance, 
and suggested many times to my mind words of 
Scripture which sustained and rejoiced my heart. 
That I may never forget what was then taught 
me, I am going to record each text in this book, 
so that if I am ever tempted to despond or com- 
plain, I can read how the Lord then helped me, 
and trust Him still. 

" February ', 1864. — During this month, I was 
confined to my bed most of the time. The psalm 
which was oftenest in my mind was the 130th, 
beginning, ' Out of the depths have I cried unto 
Thee, O Lord ! ' more particularly the verse, 
' But there is forgiveness with Thee, that Thou 
mayest be feared.' It was very precious to re- 
member that Jesus had washed away my sins ; in 
my weakness, I had nothing to do but rest in 



72 



Him. It was also a comfort to remember these 
words of the Lord Jesus, ' As many as I love I 
rebuke and chasten,' and to look upon this illness 
as sent as a mark of love, to lead me to forsake 
sin and set my affections upon Himself. 

" March 10th. 1864. — Dr. Marcy examined my 
lungs to-day, and seems to think me more seri- 
ously ill than I supposed, and in view of possible 
months of weakness and suffering, my spirit 
sank within me. Then the Spirit whispered to 
me these words, ' Are not two sparrows sold for 
a farthing ? Yet not one of them falleth to the 
ground without your Father. Fear not, there- 
fore, ye are of more value than many sparrows,' 
and I was comforted. 

" August, 1864, Arlington, Vt. — From my 
window, I see across the road the village church 
with the graveyard by its side ; beyond rises a 
mountain, with green pastures and fields of 
grain on its sloping sides, and the summit 
crowned with forest trees — 

' Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, 
Stand dressed in living green.' 



" From the top of tliis mountain there is an 
extensive prospect ; but the graveyard, which to 
me is so prominent an object, is not noticed at 
all. So when we reach those heavenly heights, 
the grave and death, through which we reached 
them, and which now lie between us and them, 
will seem as nothing, for our eyes will behold 
the glories of eternity. 

"New ■ York, September 3d, 1864. — Was taken 
very ill at Arlington, and had no means of pro- 
curing medical aid. For a time, I was complete- 
ly cast down, but casting my eyes toward the 
mountains, which I could see from my window 
as I lay in my bed, the Spirit brought these 
words to my remembrance : l 1 will lift up mine 
eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help 
— my help cometh from the Lord, who made 
heaven and earth.' Then I was enabled to 
trust myself to Him, to cast all my care upon 
Him, praying that if it was His will, I might be 
raised up from that bed, and reach my home 
once more. My spirit was immediately calmed. 



74 



I would ' rest in the Lord and wait patiently for 



"January 25th, 1865. — Finished reading the 
life of Dr. Cutler. The one thought which the 
book suggests is this, that God prolongs the lives 
of His servants, even through years of suffering 
and weakness, until their work for Him is accom- 
plished, and then takes them to glory. Who 
would wish to live longer, and who would wish 
to rest, while there is any thing on earth to do for 
the Redeemer's glory ? 

"April 3d, 1865. — Was feeling depressed that 
I do not get better, and desponding at the ineffi- 
ciency of human aid, when I was directed in my 
reading to the incident of our Saviour's walking 
on the water and His rebuke to Peter's failing 
faith. Then I saw that in the darkest hour of 
affliction, Jesus says to us, ' It is I, be not afraid,' 
and that as we sink in despondency, He puts 
forth His hand and holds us up, saying, i Where- 
fore didst thou doubt, O ye of little faith % ' He 
has sent this sickness, He will carry me through 



75 



it, giving me health again if it be for His glory, 
and in His own time, which is the best time, rest 
in the mansions He has prepared. 

" September 8th, 1865. — There has been a con- 
stant succession of damp, cloudy days, for a 
week, and I long once more for sunshine. There 
is a quiet happiness which comes to me with the 
sun ; it is like the presence of a dear friend, and 
I feel depressed if it is absent, and welcome its 
return, as I would that of a loved one. But I 
must not forget that Jesus, the Sun of Right- 
eousness, will be ever present with me, and 
having Him, I would rejoice always. I would 
bask in His presence as I do in the sunlight. 

"November 8th. — I particularly hoped to go 
to church to-day, more so as it was the day for 
communion, but it was too cold and blustering. 
This text was sent to comfort me : ' Surely good- 
ness and mercy shall follow me all the days of 
my life, and I will dwell in the house of the 
Lord forever ! ' There will come a time when 
I shall enjoy the worship of the Lord. 



70 



" November 12th. — A clear, bright day. Went 
to St. George's in a carriage. Enjoyed the ser- 
vice more than I ever enjoyed it before. A year 
had passed since I had united in it. ... I felt 
that I was again at home, and all the rest of the 
day have been repeating to myself, 'A day in thy 
courts is better than a thousand.' If it were not 
for troubling others, I would willingly endure 
illness for weeks, to have the privilege of this 
afternoon. 

" December ?>\st. — The record of the year shows 
many days of illness and inactivity, yet it has 
not been an unhappy one, and though there is 
not much to tell of outward work, there has been 
much heart-work ; much striving with an unsub- 
dued will ; many struggles with an impatient 
spirit, and many longings after holiness. The 
blessed Saviour has been ever present with me, 
sustaining and comforting, and the peace of God, 
which passeth all understanding, has filled my 
mind. The New Year may be the happiest of 
my life, for it may usher me into the presence of 
my Saviour, to be like Him, because 1 shall see 



77 



Him as He is. Let me not forget that ' every 
one that hath this hope in Him puriiieth himself, 
even as He is pure.' 

" May 9th, 1869. — When we feel that our mo- 
tives are misunderstood, and that those with 
whom we are in daily intercourse have no idea 
of our conflicts, trials, or even joys, we must re- 
member that the life we are living as Christians 
is a hidden one. ' Your life is hid with Christ 
in God,' therefore let us be content to be God's 
hidden ones, while we strive to purify ourselves 
as He is pure. 

" May 20th, 1869.— The feeling of gratitude is 
not natural to the human heart. In fact, it is re- 
pugnant to human nature. People would rather 
feel they had gained benefits themselves, and they 
are apt to dislike those who confer them — so that 
self-sacrificing characters are not by any means 
those who are the most loved. Sometimes this 
is their own fault ; they are so conscious that 
they have only the desire to benefit those about 
them, and they only know at what sacrifice they 



78 



have been able to do so, that they are disappoint- 
ed at the slight return or appreciation their 
efforts receive. There is no satisfaction in doing 
good to others, but as we follow Christ's pre- 
cept, ' Do good and lend, hoping for nothing in 
return.' 

"January 8th, 1870. — Have been much in- 
terested in reading St. Paul's Second Epistle to 
the Corinthians. It seems like a tender, loving 
letter to dear friends, the outgushings of an 
affectionate heart. 

"November 28^A, 1871. — For the past two 
weeks I have been preparing a series of daily 
prayers from the Collects, to be arranged like 
the Silent Comforter, a page for each day of the 
month and a prayer on each page, with one or 
two appropriate texts of Scripture. It is not de- 
signed for the sick or afflicted, but rather for the 
busy man or woman who pleads want of time as 
an excuse for neglecting prayer. These pages 
hanging in the room of such a one may, I hope, 
lead some careless soul to call upon God, and 



79 



some worldly Christian to a more intimate com- 
munion with Him. I have enjoyed selecting 
these texts very much. I have aimed to have 
them very practical and encouraging. 

"February, 1872. — I have been made so happy 
lately in thinking how our dear Lord compen- 
sates to His children when He lays them aside 
from active employment and the enjoyment of 
many things, by teaching them Himself, and 
manifesting Himself as He doth not to others, or 
perhaps I should say, as He has not to them in 
health. It is as if a tender mother withdraws 
her children from the large public school and 
teaches them herself, being their constant com- 
panion, or as if a father, after having allowed 
his children to labor for him awhile, takes them 
himself into some safe resting-place and talks to 
them of his tender love." 

About three months before Marcia was called 
Home, when strength was failing fast, and 
her sufferings were daily increased, she wrote to 
a dear friend : " I have so many mercies that my 



80 



heart sings with joy and gratitude all the time. 
I do not feel as if this illness is the arrow from 
the King to tell me He is now ready for me, but 
I have taken down the chart of that heavenly 
country, and examined it again, as good Dr. Cut- 
ler says, and I desire to be always waiting, with 
6 the door upon the latch.' " 

During her last winter, the frequent visits and 
ministrations of her devoted friend and pastor 
became of greater comfort. The very last entry 
made in her pocket diary was the date of April 
22d, 1873— " Dr. Tyng called ; prayed for just 
what I desired." Then strength failed, and she 
was too feeble to record another event in that 
sainted, lovely life which left earth so soon after- 
ward for the eternal joy and rest of Heaven. 



81 



XV. 

In 1858 Marcia conceived the idea of a home 
for friendless young women, the aim and pur- 
pose of which is best given in her own words, 
obtained from her editorial on the subject, which 
was printed at the time in The Parish Visitor : 



" This is an association of ladies formed for the 
purpose of aiding, in such ways as may be neces- 
sary, young women, and others of their own sex, 
who are compelled to earn a livelihood, and yet 
have not the protection of parents or the safe- 
guards of Christian homes. In carrying out their 
plans, they have kept up, for two years, a board- 
ing-house where special care has been taken to 
provide for the refining and elevating influence 
of a Christian family. In this particular they 
have been most successful. From their last re- 
port, we learn that fifty young women have been 



82 



accommodated during the year. A clergyman 
and his wife have charge of the house, and every 
attention is paid to the comforts and religious 
interests of those who reside there. To young 
women coining to the city to engage in any of 
the branches of pursuit open to females, such a 
provision is of inestimable value. No one knows 
how many such have been lost to society and to 
themselves for the want of just such a home. 
There is not a more interesting and valuable 
class among us than the young women who are 
engaged as teachers in our public schools, clerks 
in stores, seamstresses, engravers, and appren- 
tices in our millinery and mantua establishments. 
And yet there is no class more unprotected or 
less cared for. Many of these have to struggle 
with poverty — with hardships of every kind — 
and it is not surprising that, under their manifold 
discouragements, they yield to temptations and 
throw themselves away. We are glad to hnd 
that the ladies of this association are devoting 
themselves particularly to this class. Their board- 
ing-house has been quite successful, and many 
young women have enjoyed its benefits during 



83 



the year, and will bless God forever that such a 
home was provided for them. Instead of one, 
there should be twenty such boarding-houses in 
the city. 

" This is one of those quiet, noiseless influences 
which are so much needed in this great city. We 
are spending thousands of dollars for punishing 
and correcting crimes and vices already com- 
mitted where we expend one dollar for their 
prevention. When shall we learn that preven- 
tion is always safer, better, wiser, and cheaper 
than cure ? We are glad to learn that the matron 
and young women of the boarding-house have es- 
tablished a mission-school, mostly for boys, in 
one of the most abandoned districts of the city. 
We trust this association will receive the mea- 
sure of support which its objects and plans 
require." 

After Marcia's death, the following letter was 
addressed by the Society to her mother, and I 
insert it here while referring to this subject : 



84 



" 27 Washington Square, 

K Y. City, June, 1873. 

" Dear Mrs. Hall : At the monthly meeting 
of the Ladies' Christian Union for June — the 
last general meeting of the season — yon were the 
special subject of our prayers and of loving, ten- 
der words. 

" We feel that, as a society, we have sustained 
no common loss in the death of our beloved 
manager, Miss Marcia A. Hall, one who, with 
yourself and Mrs. Roberts, has been identified 
with our society from its earliest infancy ; one 
who delighted to consecrate to this work her 
whole heart, her love, her thoughts, her pen, her 
time, her prayers ; one who, when laid aside 
from active service with ns, still gave ns her wise 
and loving thoughts and counsels, and followed 
us step by step with her earnest prayers ; one 
who helped to impress upon our work its noble, 
pnre, Christian character ; and we feel bereft as 
we think of onr loss. To those who personally 
knew our dear sainted one, the loss is inexpressi- 



85 



bly great, and we feel that her place can never 
be filled. Brit we joy that, while she ' rests 
from her labors, her works do follow her.' All 
through this season, she has, week by week, been 
tenderly remembered in our prayers ; and you 
also, clear friend, have been upborne in the arms 
of love, faith, and prayer. And now we want to 
have the love of our ladies gather around you 
very closely, for we are one with you in the 
sweetest and best of bonds. 

" Dear friend, we know that no words can ex- 
press the outgoings of our hearts toward you, but 
we feel you will accept the tribute of grateful 
affection we would record of one so dear to us, 
and one whose name is inwrought into the whole 
fabric of our work ; and that you will accept the 
love and prayers of your own true ' sisters ' in 
the love of Jesus. 

" Most affectionately your friend, and Secretary 
of Ladies' Christian Union, 

« S. B. Hills." 



In the annual report the following tributary 
notice of their loss was given by the Secretary : 

" Another, Miss Marcia A. Hall, in the prime 
of womanhood, the stay and solace of our aged 
mother in Israel, has triumphed over Death and 
the grave, and entered upon her reward. To her 
energy and personal consecration to Christ, this 
Society owes much of its early success. She was 
one of its founders and first workers, serving in 
turn as Secretary and Treasurer ; and during 
eight years of invalid life, aiding the work with 
her pen and her prayers. Our loss, though se- 
vere, is her gain. May her spirit of heroic faith 
and patient zeal pervade the hearts of those who 
are left to perform the work which she relin- 
quished only with life." 



87 



XVI. 

Marcia's dissolution was preceded with the slow 
wasting of bronchial consumption. I do not pro- 
pose to linger upon details of her immediately 
failing strength throughout the winter of 1873. 
1 bury with the earthly tabernacle all details and 
thoughts of the bodily sufferings. I prefer alone 
to remember how as libre wasted, the light in her 
beautiful eyes grew purer ; how her failing voice 
subdued at times to low notes of music that 
seemed echoes from a far-off sphere; how her 
touch seemed more and more affectionate as the 
soul struggled to escape ; how her angelic smile 
bade you forget the sallow cheek that now and 
then a hectic flush tinted, like as a maple leaf in 
autumn sere and yellow faintly glows under a 
sunset reflection ; and how she taught to us all 
soul-lessons of Patience. Did she not know that 
the Heavenly Sculptor worked upon her ? And 
she was patient, therefore ! 

The day before dissolution, she said, " There is 
only a vail between this world and the next. I 



feel it." She was thinking of a passage in a 
sermon by the Eev. C. Standford, of England. I 
copy it for yon just as I feel she remembered 
it, while she spoke in feeble accents that, how- 
ever, strongly reverberated through the chambers 
of her unwearied sonl : 

" There is only a vail between us and heaven ! 
A vail is the thinnest and frailest of all con- 
ceivable partitions. It is but a line tissue, a deli- 
cate fibre of embroidery. It waves in the wind ; 
the touch of a child may stir it, an accident rend 
it ; the silent action of time will moulder it away. 
The vail that conceals heaven is only one em- 
broidered existence, and, though fearfully and 
wonderfully made, it is only wrought out of our 
frail mortality. So slight is it that the puncture 
of a thorn, the touch of an insect's wing, the 
breath of an infected atmosphere, may make it 
shake and fall. In a bound, in a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye, in the throb of a pulse, in 
the flash of a thought, we may start into disem- 
bodied spirits, glide unabashed into the company 
of great and mighty angels, pass into the light 



and amazement of eternity, know the great secret, 
gaze upon splendors which flesh and blood could 
not sustain, and which no words lawful for man 
to utter could describe ! Brethren in Christ, 
there is but a step between you and death ; be- 
tween you and heaven there is but a vail." 



90 



XVII. 

The vail fell in a second of time for her. " My 
breath is going," she whispered in my ear; " now 
it is here," and pointed to her throat. There 
was a faint sigh, and then instantaneously her 
fingers gently relaxed on her breast, like as drop- 
ping rose-petals touch the greensward upon a 
calm summer's day. 

" So softly death succeeded life in her, 
She did but dream of Heaven and she was there. 
No pains she suffered, nor expired with noise ; 
Her soul was whispered out with God's still voice." 

Dryden. 

Funeral services were conducted at our moth- 
er's house, by Dr. Tyng, the senior, and at the 
vault by Dr. Dyer. Modest and unobtrusive as 
her social life had been, and slight in fruitf ulness 
as she deemed that her Christian career had 
proved, nevertheless the attendance evidenced 
how sincerely her friends estimated her character 
and the labors of her mortal life. 



01 



Dr. Tyng was asked to give a few notes of his 
address at the funeral. His answer reads as fol- 
lows: 

" I never made any preparation, even in 
thought, for an address. I spoke as I thought 
and felt. The delicate, attractive traits of her 
character as I saw them could hardly be de- 
scribed in an assembly. I try in vain to recall 
any thing that was said on that occasion. I am 
pleased to hear that a memorial is preparing of 
such a life and character. No one could have a 
more beautiful or brighter pattern before them. 
All that intelligence, amiability, and grace could 
give to a young lady seemed to have been be- 
stowed upon her. She was a very enlightened 
and sanctified child of God. Her views of divine 
truth, perfectly clear and remarkably free from 
any false bias, we rarely meet with on earth, so 
intelligently and spiritually prepared to be use- 
ful and happy in the Saviour's work and service. 
I have never enjoyed more truly a ministry to 
any one. Few have I ever seen at all approach- 
ing the measure of her grace. She also pre- 



92 



served in all the active labors of social life, in 
all her domestic character, in all her work for the 
welfare of others, as beautiful a pattern of truly 
elevated and transparent character as we proba- 
bly shall ever see. Her memory is very precious 
to me, but I shall have no time or ability to pre- 
pare any such memorial of her as would in any 
degree be worthy of its design. Her record is 
on high with that gracious Saviour whom she so 
truly loved and honored." 

Five nieces and a nephew — all between the 
ages of twenty-two and ten — live to hold in the 
most grateful remembrance the companionship 
of their aunt. She was the early instructor of 
each one. You know how graciously and with 
what unvarying sweetness of temper and uni- 
formity of kindness she managed their educa- 
tion up to the childish era of their outer school- 
days, and then assisted their other teachers after- 
ward. She was a pleasant encyclopedia for 
childish inquiries. " She had a way" (says one 
of the children) " of smiling information right 
into your memory." She was not only a great 



93 



reader, but a " tester " of the quality whereof she 
read. She was critical, and generously so. She 
was a concise talker of Saxon words. She dis- 
cussed by illustration. And it is no wonder that 
the smiling photograph of her earthly semblance 
that beams from the dining-room walls receives 
the fondest smiles and delighted looks in re- 
turn. 



94 



XVIII. 

Shall I ever forget the picture — entirely a 
family one — presented when those nieces and 
that nephew grouped about their grandmother at 
the door of Marcia's tomb \ It was on a summer's 
morning in Trinity Cemetery. That city of dead 
mortality seemed to be a dividing-line between 
the busy hum of the metropolis upon one side of 
it and the comparative quietude and restfulness 
of the ruralities upon the other side — suggesting 
indeed the turmoil upon our mortal side of the 
grave, and her immortal rest beyond it. Imme- 
diately across the silvered Hudson River extended 
the slopes of a country-place at which most of 
their childhood, during summer, had been passed. 
We called it Cragtangle Terrace, and Marcia had 
given this title to one of her stories. Yonder, 
therefore, was the direct suggest or of her mor- 
tal life. Beside them was the bier and the tomb- 
shelf : convincers of her dissolution and real en- 
trance into life. You saw no morbid grief im- 



95 



pressed upon their faces. There was no useless 
mourning dress fashioned about their persons. 
Humanity indeed watered their eyes, and doubt- 
less they reverently remembered the tributary 
tears at the grave of Lazarus; but the selfish re- 
gret at loss of companionship seemed to vanish 
when they remembered her gain and the mortal 
suffering from which she had found release. So, 
on the face of the summer firmament in that 
same hour, cloud-shade and sunshine flecked and 
changed. But there were most respectful, lov- 
ing, and grateful glances showered upon the last 
resting-place of the once vivid clay. They had 
nothing of the faintest unpleasantness to remem- 
ber concerning their aunt ; yet a myriad recol- 
lections of her unselfish and affectionate com- 
panionship. They knew that, although departed, 
their aunt was thinking, feeling, acting still. 
Gone perhaps to instruct children in the better 
world. They knew that the breaking of the 
harp could not destroy the life of the lyrist who 
has last touched its strings ; that this harpist has 
yet the power upon another instrument to utter 
more entrancing strains. 



96 



How few matured persons in society can truly 
say, " We know how to affiliate thought, 
action, and expression with the children !" Yet 
Marcia was conspicuous amid the few. And 
as each of the young people turned, when the 
vault-lock snapped oddly and suggestively upon 
the summer silence, it was toward their grand- 
mother, in the most effective gestures of tributa- 
ry affection, as if to say, " Take us in her earthly 
place." 



97 



XIX. 

As for me — standing at the door of a ceme- 
tery vault, such as families in remembrance of 
the cave of Machpelah, appropriately maintain, 
I recalled and repeated this poem : 

THE DEATH OF A SISTER. 

The stars that shine 

O'er day's decline 
May tell the hour of love, 

The balmy whisper in the leaves, 
The golden moon above; 

But vain the hour 

Of softest power : 
The moon is dark to thee, 

My sister and my faithful one ! 
And oh ! her death to me ! 

In sickness aye I cried to her — 

Her beauty and her kiss ; 
For her my soul was loth to leave 

So fair a world as this : 
And glad was I when day's soft gold 

Again upon me fell, 
And the sweetest voice in all the world 

Said, " Brother, art thou well?" 



98 



She led me wliere the voice of streams 

The leafy forest fills ; 
She led rne wliere the white sheep go, 

O'er shining, turfy hills : 
And when the gloom upon me fell, 

Oh ! she, the fairest beam, 
Led forth with silver leading-strings 

My soul from darksome dream. 

Now, sailing by, the butterfly 

May through the lattice peer, 
To tell the prime of summer-time, 

The glory of the year ; 
But ne'er for her — to death her eyes 

Have given up their trust, 
And I can not reach in the grave, 

To clear them from the dust. 

But in the skies, her pearly eyes, 

The angels there have kissed, 
And she hath dipped her sainted foot 

In the sunshine of the blessed. 
Eternal peace her ashes keep, 

Who loved me through the past ! 
And may good Christ my spirit take, 

To be with hers at last 



99 






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